The Hunt for Han Solo

Chapter 1: Cloud City Pretty

notes: Act 1 is a Din Djarin bounty hunter adventure story, with Star Wars typical bad guys and sci fi violence. Act 2 is mature and explicit content. This fic is a sequel to my story The Mandalorian Needs A Bath, but you don't have to read it to follow this. However, you might want to, because it was fun, sensual Din/Luke smut. The story of them meeting on a hot springs planet.

"Pretty" is the best word Din can think of to describe Calrissian. The Baron Administrator of Cloud City is very pretty. His shining black hair slicked into waves, smooth, creamy brown skin, manicured hands, flashing black eyes, and wicked little mustache. He's got on a fancy silver satin outfit. Skin tight, with nowhere to hide a weapon. Spotless. Everything impractical, head to toe. Pretty pretty pretty. Din has never seen anyone so shiny that wasn't wearing polished armour.

The man has on a white satin cape for fark's sake. Din understands capes. Rugged and tattered, his own dirty red one falls from his epaulets down his back. Worn in battle, the moving fabric of a cape can distract an opponent, adding another element for their eye to keep track of besides Din's weapons, fists, and kicks. Din can wrap himself in his cape should he need to sleep on the ground. Rip it into bandages. Use it as a makeshift stretcher to drag a wounded Mandalor to safety. He could be sewn into it as a shroud at the end, before he is thrown on the pyre. A practical, multiuse, tactical garment.

The Baron Administrator's cape is purely for looking flashy in. For swirling about Cloud City in a fog of expensive cologne. For making a swishy entrance or a dramatic exit. It should be ridiculous, but is not.

Din wants to hate the man's showmanship, but finds himself reluctantly impressed by the aggressive level of extravagance. Especially because it's satin over steel, isn't it?

This fancy man is deadly. Din can see a dozen tells. He acts like he's tipsy but his dark eyes are calculating and clear. His graceful movements and muscle tone, mark him as an experienced fighter who spars often. Calrissian didn't find himself Baron Administrator of a place like this by accident. No, Din can sense there's ruthlessness beneath the relaxed and smiling facade. Din decides he likes him.

"Please call me Lando," his deep brown voice and lovely arched eyebrow having the effect on Din that they probably have on everyone. "Would you care for a drink?"

"Informalities will not be necessary, Baron Administrator Calrissian," Din answers, stiffly pretending to be unmoved by the abundance of charm, wealth and elegance in the room. By that dazzling white smile. Din inwardly steels himself. He is not here to swoon.

Kriff, Din needs to get laid.

"All business. As you wish, Mandalorian," Calrissian says mildly, then reclines on an ottoman, being informal as fuck in contrast to Din's stiffness, subtly contrary.

Din doesn't miss the sumptuous picture he's painting. Vast windows behind him. Calrissian's an emperor lounging in the sky and Din is merely a peasant. Din stands just a few feet inside the elevator doors he came in through, awaiting the terms of the deal, feeling like a mudhorn in a crystal shop.

Din cannot calculate the expense of these quarters on Cloud City. The Baron Administrator position is one of extreme luxury. The round bed, the size of a moon. The view outside the emmense wall of curved duraglass, priceless.

Calrissian gestures for Din to sit near him on a big white sofa that Din is absolutely not going to sully by sitting on, in his grimy flight suit.